Little More Than Animals
by Locheline
Summary: Victor and Logan as children, and the life at Xavier's school that they never knew they'd live. A new take on an old idea. Rating for language, running series, et cetera. Enjoy!
1. Provoking Logan

I know this has been done more than a few times before, but I figured that I'd try my hand at it, see what I could come up with. This will definitely be a running series, just like my other two stories _Black Ice_ and _Doctor What-did-you-say?_ So I hope I'm not biting off more than I can chew here.

But I'll do my best! Should be fun :)

Cookies for reviews, double chocolate chip!

* * *

He was a wild-eyed little boy, a feral who would become more than he was ever expected to be and was different from the very beginning. As Scott walked him and his brother into the mansion, the boy wasn't listening to his descriptions or instructions at all...he didn't need to know where to go. He could smell his way around. Instead of following Scott, his eyes were trained on the carvings that adorned the banister, the intricate mosaic embedded beneath his feet, the tapestries and paintings and Victorian-era wallpaper, silently absorbing every inch. His brother was a sarcastic individual with an off-base sense of humor that honestly worried Scott a little, but the younger boy was an entirely different story altogether. James was a quiet, introspective child who kept his emotions to himself and seemed to be depressed most of the time. That was what Summers had thought in the beginning, at least. Charles had warned him that the child might be a bit tense upon their first meeting, but Scott had expected much more drastic behaviour than that which he was greeted by. Especially since he'd been told that both of the boys were ferals. James had fit his expectations perfectly in the beginning-sniffing at him in a very obvious manner, refusing to get too close, all of that-and Victor had seemed to be the more human of the two. But after a while it became obvious that the older brother simply had more experience with acting normal and wasn't really the more empathetic one in the equation. James was jumpy and erratic in his motions, certainly-and that made Scott worry about what his reaction would be to Xavier's school-but he was much more polite in all other aspects. He always spoke to 'Mr. Summers' with respect whenever the older man spoke to him, and he wasn't vulgar in the least; Victor was the one with a sailor's tongue. It was a surprise to Scott, because his first impression of James was one of an untamed nature. He couldn't figure it out.

But he'd soon decided that he'd been wrong in his assumptions about James' mental state. The boy wasn't depressed, he was in shock, and the quieter the eight-year-old was the more certain of this Cyclops became. Victor didn't seem to notice; either he was just acting normal to cheer his brother up, or he really was oblivious enough not to see the younger boy's predicament. Scott guessed that it was the former-no matter what Victor was otherwise, he wasn't an idiot-but whatever the case was, James seemed to appreciate Victor's company in his own way. The older boy even managed to get his younger sibling to smile, even though it seemed that every time Jimmy got close to laughing tears would threaten and he would jerk his gaze back to the window as if he'd been shocked.

Scott had not been told the details of the boys' situation, and the reason for their apparently orphaned state was a mystery to him. He tried bringing it up once on the drive back to the mansion. But Victor had looked at James with wary, questioning eyes and Jimmy had been staring at Scott with eyes as round as saucers, as if the teacher had just threatened his life. He made a choking sound in the back of his throat and quickly dropped his gaze to the floor. Victor had then bared his teeth in his brother's defense.

"We don't know."

He spoke with a growl, and Cyclops didn't push the matter any further. He would get the details from the Professor later. The drive had proceeded in silence for a few miles more, and then Scott had broken the ice with a conversation starter and found that Victor was quite a chatty little fellow. Summers tried to bring James into their cheerful banter several times after that, but the boy seemed to enjoy watching the road more than he enjoyed the other mutants' small talk, and after a while Scott let that go, too.

When they arrived at Xavier's, Scott led the two ferals to the room that they would be sharing for an indefinite number of years, probably until each of them had turned eighteen but possibly through college if either of the boys chose that path. Scott had already made a prediction that neither of the boys would be too interested in a higher education, but he of all people knew how unpredictable children's opinions and personalities were as they grew up. He immediately refused to allow himself to make any predictions of that sort and just concentrated on leading the boys inside.

* * *

"I got this bunk, you got that one."

Jimmy began to snarl but abruptly cut himself off, grinding his teeth together instead. He was angry, furious even, but he wouldn't act like Victor wanted him to. He wouldn't let Victor get under his skin. The older boy chuckled at his younger brother and turned away to shove his suitcase into the closet; James heard him laugh but wasn't paying enough attention to care. He was busy wiggling one of his eye teeth back an forth with his tongue, wondering why it felt so loose. It definitely seemed like it was coming out, but it didn't hurt any more than any other tooth he'd lost. He wondered if this was what a cavity felt like-he'd never had one-but decided that it couldn't be anything that bad. Cavities had people screaming in pain-he'd seen them, on television-but he wasn't doing anything of the sort, so it couldn't be a cavity. James smiled a little at himself, proud of his reasoning. Father would be proud, too.

_Father..._

The boy couldn't contain the soft whimper that pearled its way up his throat; Victor turned sharply to look at him, tawny eyes cold.

"Don't you be thinkin' 'bout John now, boy."

James quickly swallowed the lump in his throat, instinctively tensing at the angry edge to Victor's scent. "He's sir to you, Victor," he replied in his quiet voice. "And my name's not boy. It's James."

Victor raised an eyebrow and grinned, fangs barely visible against his lips. "Well well well." He took a quick step forward-almost a jump-at Jimmy, the beginnings of a crouch showing in his tense muscles. "I struck a nerve there!"

James jerked back from Victor's unexpected approach, falling quickly into a crouch himself, a growl tickling his throat. He felt like he ought to be coughing at the unfamiliar sensation, but strangely the reflex didn't feel necessary. It would take a while for him to get used to that. "Victor, don't," he muttered warily in the older boy's direction.

"What, you don't want a fight? S'right, you don't. 'Cause I'd beat your skinny little ass six ways 'till Sunday."

"Victor-"

Jimmy was suddenly up against the wall, choking against his brother's clawed hands. Victor snarled, baring his teeth. "Why the fuck won't you fight? You scared, boy? You scared, _Logan?_ Huh?"

James let out a yell and started punching Victor, kicking him, hitting him in any place he could reach. The older boy just grinned wider and leaned harder against Jimmy's throat, cutting off his air completely. James' head pounded with blood and he gasped, scrabbling against Victor's grasp.

"Where're the claws, Logan? Hey, _Logan,_ you gonna fight for real or is this a game to you?"

"Shut up! Shut up, Victor, _shut up!_" James couldn't hold back the anger any longer. The bones came out of the back of his hands and he shoved them into Victor's ribcage, raking down with a vicious scrape. Victor gasped and backed off, curling over his stomach, but Jimmy kept coming. He was punching Victor with his claws unsheathed now, driving the bones into his older brother's body as he cursed at Victor at the top of his lungs.

Victor let out a hiss every time his brother's claws dug into him, his breath leaving his now-punctured lungs like deflating balloons. He had to do something to make Jimmy stop. At least he had to try, even though he knew that once the boy got started he didn't quit until your heart stopped beating-or his did. But neither of them could die-at least, he didn't _think_ they could-so he'd have to do something else. He at least had to keep Jimmy from using those claws of his; the smell of Victor's own blood was infuriating to the older boy.

Victor snarled and stood, reaching behind himself and hauling Jimmy off by one flailing limb. He dug his claws into Jimmy's flesh and flung him through the door with all his might, the hinges giving way before the wood could do the same.

James hit their dorm's door with the side of his face and his shoulder, spinning through the air, his back slamming against the wall opposite their room with a loud _thawump_. His ears had caught the muffled sounds of bones breaking and as he slid to the floor he realized that both his jaw and shoulder were shattered from the impact. He whimpered at the pain, like nothing he'd ever felt before, but was surprised to feel the tingle of heat first in his jaw and then his arm. _He was healing?_ He touched his cheek tenderly; his eyes widened as the bones moved beneath the flesh. _I'm healing from_ that? Jimmy rolled slowly to his feet just as several other students came out of their rooms...and Victor slammed into him again.

James hesitated for a fraction of a second before he drove his claws into his brother's chest, grabbing the older boy's shirt front, then lifting his own feet off the ground. Jimmy's weight was supported by Victor, but Victor wasn't prepared for the sudden addition of more than just a few extra pounds and he tumbled down on top of James, clawing the smaller boy's face as they fell.

Jimmy hadn't expected that his brother would fall down like that and crush him; he had the breath knocked clean out of him as a hundred plus pounds landed on his ribcage, and he gasped for breath. He pulled his claws back into his forearms and pushed against Victor, scrabbling and punching at the older boy and doing everything in his power to free himself. Finally James gathered his strength and kicked Victor in the gut as hard as he could, sending the older feral tumbling down the hall.

"Oh my goddess!" Ororo gasped. She'd heard the ruckus all the way down in the teacher's lounge and had come upstairs to see what was the matter. The boys weren't exactly trying to be silent, what with all their snarling and the damage they were inflicting on the mansion, and Storm had been bracing herself for the worst.

She most certainly got what she'd expected.

Both boys were dripping with blood-their own, but Ororo couldn't and didn't discern that upon first sight-and both looked like living nightmares, snarls and bared teeth making them appear much more violent than the adolescents they really were. As Storm watched, Victor rolled to his feet with leonine grace and turned back towards his brother, a sadistic smile making his lips twitch. Jimmy took a step forwards to attack again, claws already fully extended from between his fingers, when he took a breath...and paused.

There were others here, watching him. There were teens. There were children. And there was an adult.

_Watching him. Judging him._ He couldn't fight here; he wasn't in the wild any more.

But Victor leapt at him anyways, with a snarl that made the onlookers take a step back, and James had no choice but to respond. He growled softly at his older brother, tensing for impact, his motions all instinct and physical power that was well beyond his years. Victor went to grab for his throat but James shifted to the side and drove his claws into Victor's back as the older boy ran past, unbalancing him with the heart-stopping pain. He pushed the older feral to the floor with his own dead weight and dug his heels into Victor's kidneys on landing, then sheathed his claws and pushed off of his brother's back. He landed in a crouch three feet away, standing and spinning to face the others even as Victor moved to get up, spitting blood.

None of the other students moved. Ororo stared at the boys, shocked, as Victor kneeled on the floor and James stared back. His tawny eyes were wide, and he watched them for one thunderstruck moment before he turned and fled silently down the hall.

"Get your ass back here," Victor growled, now standing. "I ain't done with you yet!"

"Oh yes you are," Ororo scolded furiously. "You are coming with me _right now,_ young man!"

And on that note, she herded him downstairs into Xavier's office and quickly shut the door.


	2. An Inkling Of Suspicion

*sniffle* Just one review?

You hooligans!

Thanks so much for your feedback, Mississippi, I'm glad you liked it. ^^

This is a lot harder than I thought it would be, writing the ferals as little guys...I'll try not to make Logan too emo, but just whack me with a stick or something if I do it anyway.

Enjoy!

* * *

"What happened, young man?"

Xavier's patience was wearing on Ororo's nerves. Had he not seen it for himself in her mind's eye? In this boy's memories and thoughts? This was no time for him to decide that he wanted to see a situation from all points of view.

Xavier noticed the surprise and indignation emanating from Storm, but he tucked it away in his mind to discuss it with her later. He was involved in something else at the moment.

Victor shifted under the Professor's direct gaze; calm as it was, he hated being stared at like that. "I told him what bed I wanted, an' he jumped me."

Charles Xavier sat back in his chair. "That is a lie," he noted calmly.

Victor rumbled his displeasure. "How do _you_ know?" he muttered sullenly.

"I am a telepath, young man. I can read minds." Victor hissed and was out of his chair in a quarter of a second, backing away towards the door even though Ororo stood blocking it. "I cannot read yours," Xavier continued, "because you are a feral mutant-"

"Damn straight," Victor growled, interrupting the professor.

"-but I can interpret moods, preferences, and other basic things." He paused, allowing the boy to consider his words for a moment before he continued. "James is a quiet, good-tempered young man, and although he is a feral mutant just like yourself, he does not go around attacking people without reason. Now, what was it that started this fight?"

Victor let his disagreement continue to rumble audibly within his chest. "I called 'im Logan."

"Who is Logan?"

"None o' yer damn business."

"Young man..."

"Ask Jimmy. He's such a pussy. He'll tell you anythin' you want ta know."

The Professor sighed. "Very well. You'll have a week of detention - and Ororo? Please find these boys some different roommates. We cannot have fights of this magnitude happening regularly within the school."

Storm nodded. "Yes, Professor." She opened the office door and Victor stalked sullenly out.

* * *

"Hello?"

The girl's voice came clearly to James' keen ears, and he buried his head deeper beneath his folded arms. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now, not while he was still feeling riled. He was already worried about how he was going to go back to sharing a room with Victor tonight, and how he could stop the reunion of sorts from turning into another fight. He'd left his brother down on the floor, and Victor _hated_ losing. _He'll antagonize me until he wins, and then he'll gloat until we fight again,_ James realized as dread filled his gut like poison. He figured that he was worrying too much about something he couldn't change; he picked up on the tempo of his heartbeat and kept time with it until he had collected himself somewhat.

The footsteps in the hall caught his attention again, but he still didn't move. He could feel the adrenaline urging him to run, but there was nowhere to run to...he fought the animal back down, breathing deeply to control himself. There was nothing to fear...he _knew_ that. But somehow his body wanted to react without him, defending him against something that was unknown and possibly dangerous. It was a hard thing to control.

The girl rounded the corner and he jerked his head up and snarled at her in spite of himself. She stopped in the doorway, her eyes wide an cautious, and he buried his head in his arms again. "M'sorry," he mumbled; it was muffled and low in volume, but she caught the words anyway.

"It's awlright," she replied softly. She stepped carefully into the room and slid down the wall cornered against his, eying him for a moment before she looked down at her fingernails.

"Ah'm Marie," she offered after they hadn't spoken for a few minutes. He looked up and sniffed quietly at her; she stared back, then smiled hesitantly at him. His mouth twitched in response. "I'm James."

"Where're y'all from?" Marie asked, her voice still gentle to James' ears. It sounded natural for her, like she always spoke that way and wasn't just trying to be overly kind. Her eyes were gentle, too...she looked like someone he could trust. "I'm from Canada," he replied.

She nodded. "Ah'm from down south, though yah prob'ly already knew that." James smiled. "Sounds interestin'."

"Ah'm glad yah think so."

Her scent changed then, and his eyes sharpened their focus on her in an automatic response. She smelled hesitant and afraid, but curious too-maybe she was worried? He cocked his head slightly, wondering, and she glanced up at the motion.

"What?" she wondered when she saw his expression, and her voice reflected some of the caution he could smell.

"What're you worried about?" he asked her guilelessly. She frowned at the floor, privately considering what she could say in response without seeming too nosey, and he looked away to let her consider. Someone else was coming down the hall...it was the teacher from before. He shifted and swallowed the uncomfortable rumbling in his throat.

Marie didn't notice. "What were yah fightin' with that other boy about?" she asked hesitantly. "And who was he? Ah didn't recognize him."

James looked her in the eyes. "He's my brother, and he kept callin' me Logan." He kept his eyes on her as he stood. "I didn't mean to fight 'im, though."

Marie looked at the door, surprised when Ms. Munroe rounded the corner. James looked up at the teacher with wary eyes as she glanced between the two students. "Marie, I thought I told you to stay out in the hall," she said, frowning.

Marie looked at her feet. "Ah know. Ah'm sawry."

Storm's frown deepened. "Go back to your room now, young lady." Her tone was firm.

James' eyes narrowed at Ororo's tone. "Why can't she stay?" he asked her in a bold voice.

Ororo turned her gaze back to the indignant boy glaring up at her and focused her most withering disciplinary look square on him. "She needs to go back to her room because you are coming with me to the Professor's office. You will be receiving a new room assignment."

The boy didn't respond to either her tone or her expression. He just considered her words and nodded when he'd deemed her purpose acceptable, though he didn't take his eyes off of her for even one moment. Ororo just sent Marie back to her room with a nod of her own. The teacher sighed as she led James downstairs to Xavier's office and quietly shut the door. _Ferals._ Mutants driven so purely by instinct were rare, and there hadn't been any living at the school for quite a while now. Storm had forgotten just how taxing their presence could be.

Then again, their mutations were usually noticeably stronger than average...she wondered exactly what it was that the two brothers could do.

The Professor smiled as James and Ororo came into his office. He asked James to sit down in a calm but firm voice, and the boy did so after a quick appraisal of the room. It smelled like leather and lemon wood polish, and Xavier's own scent permeated the walls and the Persian rug on the floor. The decor was very old fashioned, not unlike the furniture that had been inside of James' own house in Canada; two of the four walls were composed of several tall bay windows that opened out onto the front lawn and the gardens. The scents of springtime breezing in through an open window did wonders for James' nerves.

"I'm Professor Charles Xavier, James," the Professor began. "I'm the headmaster here at the school...you can call me Mr. Xavier, if you'd like." James nodded and the Professor smiled slightly. "I've already talked to your brother about the events that transpired between you two. He seemed to believe that you could shed much more light on the incident than he."

James narrowed his eyes at that, shifting uncomfortably in his plush leather seat. "What do you want to know?" he asked in a low voice.

"What started the...disagreement...specifically?"

"Nothing," James muttered. "Victor just likes to fight."

"Victor mentioned something about calling you Logan, is that true?"

James froze at the name's mention, just for a second, then he started squirming again. "Yes," he answered the Professor.

"Who is Logan?"

James swallowed. "Nobody."

"Young man..."

"My _father._"

Xavier noticed the rising tension in the young man's thoughts - though he couldn't discern the source of the stress due to James' particular mutation - and he decided it was time to dismiss the boy. "Very well," he said with a nod. "You will have one week of detention as punishment - which, I might mention, you will _not_ be sharing with your brother-and Miss Munroe will now introduce you to your new roommate. She will also help you to get comfortable in your new room."

"We get in fights like that all the time," James informed Xavier plainly as he slid from the chair to his feet. "S'nothin new just 'cause we're here now."

"Well, you won't be having them regularly now that you _are_ here, I can assure you," Charles told the boy firmly. "Now, you still have to meet Kurt, so I suggest you get on your way."

James didn't thank the Professor as he left; there was something about the man that he just couldn't trust, and he wasn't interested in testing his luck in this new place quite yet. Charles noticed the lack of courtesy but ignored it...he could sense the wariness in James' thoughts, and he could tell that the boy wasn't just being disrespectful for the sake of it. _Hopefully he'll come around,_ he thought to himself as Ororo shut the door behind James and herself, leaving the Professor alone. _He's completely different from his brother. He most definitely should not be allowed to follow in Victor's footsteps._ But he also knew that James had sensed his curiosity about the two ferals, and it had made the boy wary. Charles wasn't used to having to monitor his own thoughts around a student; still, it wouldn't do to have a boy like that dislike him.

Someone might get hurt.

* * *

*bribes with cookies* Toss me a comment? Pretty please?


	3. Escape & Evasion

Whoo! Reviews! Hee, for the love of all things Wolverine, I am updating! Yes, you can all throw tomatoes at me now. But, perhaps, one or two of you could throw a tomato with a comment inside? I grovel at your feet. I am desperate for reviews.

*munches tomato bits*

As for the story: yes, there will be plenty of fight scenes, yes, there will be OCs (because I get _so sick_of Jubes and John and Bobby) and yes, there will be dancing gnomes in little red hats. Don't ask. I will attempt to be more regular (and summer's coming up too, howabout that!) so put your torches down and slowly back away from the pitchforks.

Oh, and who can't wait for June 3rd! X-Men First Class. For the longest time I wasn't sure if they were actually making it; it was a bit of a shock when I saw the ad. But I will be there with all of my friends and I'm awfully excited! Hopefully it turns out better than X-3...keep your fingers crossed.

And enjoy!

* * *

James followed Ororo upstairs without a word as she towed him back to his room to retrieve his things. Even though he had no desire to speak, it wasn't as though he could have gotten a word in edgewise past her steady chorus of _do's_ and_ don't's_and rules to follow and general courtesies to be aware of at the mansion. She also ended up complaining about Scott's overly casual attitude in regards to the whole thing, and cursed him for not being more careful with the boys, even though he _knew_ they would be trouble, he_ knew_ it! She ranted at the boy endlessly, the way a pet owner might complain to their dog as they scratched its ears, until she noticed that James was wiggling his eyeteeth with two of his fingers and not paying any attention to her at all.

"What's wrong with your teeth, James?" she asked in a kind voice, one totally unlike the tone she had been using just a moment before.

He frowned, but it was an expression of concern, not mistrust. "My teeth are loose," he told her, in that voice that children use when they know something's not right and they expect the nearest adult to fix it. Storm frowned too and leaned down to peer at James' mouth, even though Jean was the doctor. "Can I look at them?" she asked.

He nodded and opened wide.

But as soon as she went to wiggle one of the canines, James snapped his eight-year-old jaws shut half a centimetre away from her curious finger and picked up his belongings again. She gave a little jump at the unexpected movement, then frowned disapprovingly at the boy. "Why did you do that? I wasn't going to hurt you."

His wary expression didn't shift an inch. "I said you could _look,_ not_ touch."_

Storm's frown deepened. "But James...what will you do, if Jean has to examine your teeth to make them better?"

He raised an eyeberow. "Jean can't touch them either, unless I want her to."

Ororo sighed. "Alright. Come." She led him down two more halls and then opened the door nearest the end, walking inside first and letting the door sit open by itself.

"That bed will be yours," she said with a motion at one half of the room. "The closet, trunk, and desk are yours to use or share as you wish." She set the bags that she had been carrying for him on the bed and watched as he lugged his suitcase into the closet and set it there, while she considered her options. After about thirty seconds, she turned to James and said, "Well, Kurt will be in classes until three, so I suppose I'll take you to see Jean now, and you can meet your new roommate later." She looked him up and down, taking in his blood-slicked state, and pursed her lips. "However, before we do that, _you_ need to get cleaned up. Go have a shower in there-" Ororo gestured towards the bathroom "-and I will meet you downstairs in twenty minutes."

James nodded and Storm left the room, but what she didn't know was that the boy had no intentions of meeting her downstairs. He hated doctors, especially those he'd never met, so if he was being left to his own devices he was going to do everything in his power to avoid seeing Jean. He got his clean clothes out of the suitcase and washed himself off in the shower, but when he was finished he opened the window of his new room and leapt out, landing in a crouch on the front lawn. Then he wandered around the outside of the house until he found a back door where he could again let himself inside.

He had decided that, instead of visiting a doctor, he wanted to find Marie.

* * *

Marie Anne D'Acanto stared deeply into the depths of the big blue book. Literature wasn't exactly her strong suit, and the paragraphs in her textbook were practically laughing in her face. She'd barely started. Lily, a girl with four arms and glittering golden skin (skin that had always made Marie a little jealous, if she was being honest with herself) was reading away next to her, turning pages like words were air. Marie noticed almost immediately that her friend from London was over halfway done with the story they'd been assigned. Looking past Lily at Jubilee, Marie was happy to find that Jubes was doodling randomly in the margins of her book, and Tony, the boy next to _her,_ was staring intently out the window. _So I'm not the only one._

And then Marie noticed something _moving_ in the corner of her eye. She whipped around in her seat and there, peeking around the edge of the door, was James.

"Lily, Jubes!" She turned to consult her friends, as all girls must, and managed to catch their attention quickly enough to see James at the door. A few other heads turned as well, and at the sight of the fighter from the dorm rooms, everybody started talking. Marie waved James over and he came into the classroom, albeit warily, glancing around like a penned cat and sniffing rather conspicuously as he did.

"Hey-"

"You're James, right?"

Marie rolled her eyes at Jubilee. The other girl was leaning over two desks just so she could get a good look at the new kid, and although she was smiling, her smile could also have passed for an awfully convincing evil grin. "I'm Jubilee. You can call me Jubes, though. Or whatever you want. Can I call you Jimmy? I'm going to call you Jimmy."

James wrinkled his nose. "No."

Lily interrupted Jubes before she could get another damaging word in edgewise. "I'm Lily, by the way." And then, unnecessarily (she had a very strong accent) she added, "I'm from Britain."

James stared suspiciously at the golden-skinned girl. He narrowed his eyes. Sniffed. And decided that, so far, he at least liked her better than Jubilee. "Hi."

Marie tugged at James's shirt. "But _James,_ you can't be here!" she whispered desperately. "Ms. Munroe'll be back_ really_ soon!"

Before he even had time to object to her hand on his shirt, he heard them: footsteps in the hall. Within three seconds, Ororo Munroe strode into the classroom, her tall heels clicking out an ominous staccato on the oaken floors.

She stopped dead when she saw James.

He, however, didn't wait.

All Marie heard was the quick breath the feral sucked in, and then he was gone, dodging past Ms. Munroe with obviously inhuman speed. Marie didn't even hear his feet touch the floor. Ororo gasped and automatically stepped aside, only to make a grab for him at the last second. She turned and rushed after him down the hall. "Wait!"

No one in the classroom waited to be excused. They all charged out the door to watch the chase.

They didn't get to see much. James was small and fast, and he wasn't as clumsy as a normal boy would have been. Still, Ororo was much larger. She took larger strides and had longer arms, and she knew the mansion a whole lot better than he did. But as soon as he rounded the first corner, Ororo let her pride catch up to her and gave up the chase.

_Would you like some help with the boy?_ Xavier asked, and Ororo nodded, embarrassed. Five minutes later Jean arrived, walking up as calmly as it was possible to walk. "Difficult patient?" she asked.

"He just ran off," Ororo replied. "I didn't even know he was going to be in my classroom. He was supposed to meet me at the bottom of the stairs when he'd cleaned himself up, but he wasn't coming down, so I went to check on my class...and there he was." She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm hoping that this won't become a regular thing with him, these...events."

"Is it some sort of social disorder?" Jean asked, her inner doctor getting the best of her. "Is it a need for attention?"

"No." Ororo was firm. "I'm almost certain that it's because of his mutation. After all, his brother was fighting just as hard as he was, and the two of them seem to be almost identical in the muation department."

Jean sighed. "Okay. We'd better go and find him, though...who knows where he'll end up in this place." And with a meaningful glance at Ororo, the two of them started the search.


	4. The Truth Comes Out

Hi, guys! It's been awhile since I updated, but my awesome beta a href=".net/u/3115641/Jeanniebird"Jeanniebird/a (who I've practically just met, BTW) has gotten me back on track. Hopefully she'll keep the updates coming :)

So, yeah. Read, enjoy, and throw me a review!

* * *

James had been hiding in the staff room for an unusually short time when Jean found him crouching on top of one of the cherrywood supply cabinets. He didn't move until she called his name, convinced that she wouldn't recognize him if he stood absolutely, completely still. Although he slid down to the floor with an oddly detached wariness, Jean could sense a good amount of surprise emanating from him. She couldn't tell what he was surprised at for sure - as per usual, she couldn't fully interpret the boy's thoughts - but she assumed that the stray emotion had something to do with her finding him at all.

"Hi, James," she said, and smiled. First impressions would be important with this boy...he didn't like doctors. She'd have to bring that little detail up at just the right time.

James hovered at the door, unsure. She seemed nice, and she hadn't brought Ororo along with her, but she was novel and unknown. He decided to wait and see what she would do. Jean took this as a good sign. "I'm Miss Grey," she said calmly; then, playing innocent, she added, "How long have you been here?"

He shifted towards her. "Just today."

She nodded and sat on the floor. "I see. It's a big place, isn't it?"

He gave her a short nod.

"Where's your room, on the second floor? Are you with your brother or someone else?"

"Someone else," he replied, seeming to relax into the short, unobtrusive questions she was asking him. "Haven't met 'im though. S'not good upstairs."

Jean raised her eyebrows in gentle curiosity. "Why not?"

James wrinkled his nose. "Smells. 'Sides, I haven't met the other one. Gotta share a room with 'im." Jean nodded in agreement, and the boy decided to continue. "I'd rather be outside. Too many people in here. I didn't notice it before." He frowned at some stray ghost of a concern, then stepped a little closer to Jean. The doctor sensed several things at once…severe longing, guilt, disbelief, and powerfully instinctive mistrust all tied together into one strong wave of emotion. She was now incredibly curious about what he was thinking about, but she couldn't afford to let him see her interest...not even in scent. She alerted the Professor about finding the boy, but also asked him to keep the others from looking in the staff room for a while, so she could talk to James in private. Having done that, she smiled at James. "It is a little stuffy in the school, isn't it?" she agreed. "There are a lot of people here. But they don't come in this room, it's only for the staff members. Us teachers really just use it to do our paperwork." She watched James hesitate, then sit down in front of her and eye her carefully.

"I killed Mr. Creed."

Jean was taken aback. Xavier had told none of the teachers about the feral brothers' past, insisting that it would be better for them to get that kind of information from the boys themselves, and adding that a new start was the best way to proceed anyway. Scott had wanted to know more - after all, he'd had to pick them up - and both Jean and Hank had agreed at the time. But now Jean knew that bringing this up at the meeting would have raised some safety-related questions that would probably have denied the Howlett boys their new home. Even now, _especially_ now, Jean couldn't say she was happy that Charles had overlooked that particular conversation. She felt somewhat betrayed that Xavier would leave something this important out of a routine admissions panel; she hoped her irritation was crossing her constant telepathic link with the Professor.

"What happened?" was all she could think to say.

"He killed my father." He'd looked down at his feet now, which were bare, and he was picking at the stitching of his jeans. "I hate 'im. But not that much, it just happened. An' Victor won't leave it alone."

Jean was now truly worried for James. This was obviously current, otherwise the boys wouldn't be fighting over it, but she didn't understand why Victor would be bothering James about it. They were brothers, so why would he be so raucous as to tease the younger feral about killing_ his_ father? Wouldn't he be hurting, too? "What does Victor say to you?" she asked.

James looked at her again, and Jean met his eyes. "He notices all the stuff I do and picks on it. An' he rags on father." James narrowed his eyes. "He didn't care 'bout either one of 'em, but it's not my fault."

"Why did Mr. Creed kill your father?"

"Dunno. He was drunk."

Jean sat up a little straighter, understanding that there was more to this than she would probably ever know...more, in fact, than he would probably ever remember, or understand himself. Family details were not usually within the realm of young children's comprehension. But she could see that there was probably some sort of abuse involved here, and she knew for a fact that high stress could trigger mutation in people of all ages. It could certainly have caused the boys to grow into their genes. "Was that the night that strange things started happening to you? The healing, and the bones in your arms, those kinds of things?" She finished the last and final question she would allow herself to ask. He couldn't be suspicious of her...it seemed, at the moment, that she was the only person he trusted here.

James gave her another short nod.

She leaned over a bit then, just enough to get his attention without making him nervous again, and put one finger on his knee. He jumped at the touch but didn't get up, just watched her with wary golden eyes.

"This is not your fault," she said.

His eyes narrowed.

"James, listen to me. If Mr. Creed was being cruel to you, it does not make him right to have done it, just because you did something bad in return. It's not OK to do violent things to people, but it's not OK for them to be mean to you, either. You're a nice boy, I can tell just by talking to you. And if you couldn't help what happened, _don't worry._ The best thing to do in a situation like that is to not get involved." She gently rapped a knuckle on his knee, then stood up. He scrambled to his feet as well, unnaturally quick to get his balance, watching her with unsureness in his eyes. She could feel some sort of confusion growing in his thoughts, which confused her as well, as it made no sense whatsoever...unless she'd assumed the wrong thing about his family situation. But he was obviously still thinking about her words. She smiled. "Change is a good thing. Now c'mon, let's go meet your roommate."


	5. Kurt

Continuing on from last chapter. Sorry for the wait, excuses excuses, author's head put on a pike, et cetera. In my defense I was taking 10 classes this year, so I was a bit overwhelmed.

Anyway, you may want to catch yourself up from the end of last chapter This first little bit actually went with that one, so it's a bit of a rough transition, but I'm sure you'll figure it out. Enjoy!

* * *

Jean turned back to see if James was tailing at her heels and was surprised to find his eyes still pinned to the back of her head with an intensity he must have been masking not a second past. She turned away again quickly and took a moment to compose herself before speaking. "Kurt Wagner is your roommate, right?" Jean glanced back but avoided the boy's eyes, which had not changed expressions in the least. She knew he was following her, because of her telepathy, but she was surprised to find that he was still relatively close behind her; he was very quiet. "He's in Immigrant Studies right now, but I'm sure Charles won't mind if we interrupt." She went down a wood-paneled hall just outside the staffroom, the walls thickly bordered and elegantly carved with Victorian designs, then turned and opened a wooden door with a sun's rays carved across its surface. James' sense of touch, now somewhat dulled as a result of living in the woods, marveled at the soft flowered rug beneath his feet...not Persian, but high quality nonetheless.

The classroom to which the door opened was small and uncrowded, just fifteen students filling the desks, but to James the number was close to overwhelming. He had been homeschooled his whole life, and the stares which he received as a matter of course by entering the room - unnerving to anyone - were exaggeratedly threatening to him. He had only just mutated and therefore his newfound senses were almost painful with freshness, but the scents in the room were many and distinct and they burned his nose. Lastly, the class was not quiet, and soundproofed walls gave him no outside warning as to the noise level he would be encountering once he came inside. His jaw tightened as soon as he entered and he clenched his young fists in defense of himself, a tiny rumble of a growl surprising him as it tickled its way up his throat. Jean smiled reassuringly at the other students and gestured them back to their work, watching James closely with her mind.

But although she was right to worry, she shouldn't have worried that James would start something himself. If a person had come up to say hello at that moment, they might have gotten a set of bared teeth or possibly an exaggerated retreat, but as soon as the students saw who had entered the room and had turned away, the Howlett boy relaxed again.

Kurt was noting down his homework when Jean came in, copying it carefully into his binder as Mr. Scott wrote it on the board. Greg was sitting next to him, pulling his pencil apart, his fingertips decaying the wood just before he ripped it away from the lead inside. Mr. Scott stopped talking when Ms. Jeannie came in and Kurt turned around to see what had caught the teacher's attention.

"Could I borrow Kurt for a minute?" she asked, her voice hinting at nothing. It was that tone teachers used when they didn't want the class to notice they were there. It was also completely futile to think that it worked.

"Sure," Scott said, and those kids who hadn't been looking were all looking now. Turning to Kurt, Scott asked, "Did you write everything down?"

The blue mutant nodded. "You can leave early, then," Scott said. "We're pretty much finished for the day."

Kurt nodded, grinning to himself, and slipped out of his chair. As he left the room, he heard more than a few voices arguing against his early departure. _"Mr. Scott, I wrote everything down too!"_

Ms. Jeannie closed the door behind Kurt and he flicked his tail, absently worried that it would be stuck in the jam and also a bit impatient to know what this was about. There was a boy out in the hall, standing with his hands in his pockets. His shoulder was angled towards Kurt and the other boy got the impression that this stranger was rather wary of him. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Jean put a hand on Kurt's arm, absently tugging him forward to say hello. "James, this is Kurt, Kurt, this is James." She glanced at the blue mutant, smiling her encouragement. "James is going to be your new roommate."

James blinked at Kurt, but his expression was unreadable. He sniffed, quietly and with meaning. He blinked again. Finally, he said, "He's blue."

Jean nodded and raised her eyebrows, warning the feral boy to watch his manners. "Yes. He's special, just like you."

James sniffed again, frowned, and then shrugged. "Hello."

Kurt smiled shyly. "Hallo." His accent was clear, even in that one word, and James's eyes got a little wider.

"You're from another country, too?"

Kurt nodded. "I am from Germany."

Remembering Lily, James asked, "Do all th' people like us look funny when they're from Europe?"

Jean opened her mouth, ready to reprimand the feral, but Kurt didn't seem to mind. _"Weiss nicht,"_ he said, "But I don't think it so."

James nodded and glanced away, ready to move on from the conversation. Kurt flicked his tail and glanced up at Jean, unsure of what was supposed to happen next. For her part, Jean was pleased with Ororo's choice of a roommate for the young feral…Kurt hadn't had one when he'd been brought here because the staff weren't sure how his strange appearance would be taken by the other kids, and lately he'd been talking about wanting to sleep over in some of the other rooms because his friends got to spend the night and he didn't. He also had a quiet enough temperament not to stir up trouble with James, who was still getting a handle on his mutations. James too seemed like the perfect match for Kurt…he was quiet and unassuming and wouldn't mind staying out of the spotlight, if Kurt needed a friend that would keep him company when he was feeling shy. Plus, he appeared to be completely apathetic about Kurt's appearance, and that was something Jean was certain the German mutant needed. He had friends, true, but he was still regarded as different in many ways.

Maybe James could help bring Kurt into the group just as much as Kurt could introduce James to it in the first place.

But for the moment, the two of them needed a little bit of a cue to get started. "Why don't you show James around the school?" Jean suggested. At Kurt's worried expression, she added, "Or you could show him your room."

The math class let out then and the blue mutant nodded at Jean before running off down the hall, glancing behind him. "Come on!" he called towards James, his voice barely loud enough for Jean to hear it over the din of Scott's students.

Still, something like a smile flicked across James's face and his eyes cleared completely of their frown. He ran off to follow Kurt back upstairs, and Jean suspected that he had stopped thinking about his family then, if only for a moment.

She had been right. This was the perfect room assignment, for both the young boys.


	6. Yeah, I'm just gonna leave now

Here it is! Hopefully this is a little quicker than that last one, and *spoilers* I got another fight scene in. Ahh, the smell of violence in the late afternoon.

And I'm going to take the liberty of listing all the French phrases at the bottom of the chapter. Jeanniebird was kind enough to beta for me, and apparently Cajun French (or any French, really) doesn't make things easier to read. So they're there, if you need them, if not, well...yeah.

Anyway, happy reading, and toss me a review!

* * *

The rest of that day was almost dreamlike to James. Things around him seemed to be moving too quickly for him to absorb, but those he interacted with were too kind to him to match the swirling chaos that cluttered the rest of his surroundings. He was allowed to follow Kurt to his next three classes, then spent the afternoon with the German boy and Marie out in the woods. Later there was dinner and a movie in the theater but James ended up leaving early, not enjoying himself like the teachers probably thought he should. The theater was much too loud for his tastes and besides, nobody had seemed to mind when he'd stalked silently out the back. He'd spent the rest of the two hours the movie was playing wandering around the huge mansion that was now his home, enjoying the quiet and allowing his senses to stretch themselves to their limits. Despite the size of the school, the uppermost floors and most distant corridors were almost completely untouched. James had lost the scent of any other students within fifteen minutes of his venturing, and the aged odor that belonged to the Professor had died out not long after. Things were so still that far from the school's main area that the man's scent had lingered for a long time...James hadn't possessed his powers for long enough to make a good guess, but if he'd been older he probably would have guessed that several years had passed since the man had wandered this far from his office. James had eventually found himself on the roof, relaxed in the shadow of a high window while he looked out over the estate. The cultivated lawn surrounding the mansion was far removed from the wild Canadian forests he'd been wandering with Victor for the last few weeks, but strangely enough James found he felt more comfortable perched up here alone than surviving on next to nothing with his own brother.

He wasn't old enough to wonder what that meant, but in just a few years he'd be wondering how he could ever have called Victor a brother at all.

Later on he heard someone wandering around beneath him, a few laughs and voices accented in strange ways. He caught the scents not much later-he'd left the attic window open-and it calmed the young feral to know that it was just Marie and Lily down there. James didn't know them very well quite yet but Marie at least seemed nice, and neither of them were his brother. As they got closer he could discern their conversation as well, and he'd been left alone long enough for that not to bother him into leaving.

Eventually he heard them pause at the ladder to the roof.

_"What're yah doin'?"_

_"I'll wait here."_

_"Why? C'mon, y'all talked at dinner."_

_"...I'll wait here, he likes you better anyway."_

_"Now that ain't true. C'mon!"_

_"No!"_

_"Why not?"_

_"I really just want to wait here."_

_"...Awlright, ah'll be right back."_

Marie showed up on the roof a moment later, coming to stand just beyond where the ladder came up. She was quiet but clumsily so, and James knew exactly where she was once she'd stopped moving. He took one last breath of cool moonlit oxygen and then shifted to his feet, walking out of the shadows to follow Marie back down.

She didn't realize he'd heard her talking to Lily from three floors away, though, and she seemed shocked that he'd appeared at all.

"Hi," she said, smiling reflexively. "We were wundrin' where you'd gone off to."

He nodded. "I just like it quiet."

She nodded. "Lily found yah, she can do that. But she didn't wanna come up."

James blinked and padded over to the ladder. He could smell Lily's fear spike when he started to climb down, tangy on the piney breeze. "She's scared of heights," he told Marie candidly.

She blinked at him. "Really?"

He nodded.

"How can yah tell?"

"Smells like it." He looked uncomfortable talking about it, so Marie just smiled in response.

"Ahlright."

They climbed back down and the three of them went back downstairs, leaving for different sleeping wings when they got to the second floor. James came into his room to find Kurt settled comfortably on his bed in a pair of pale blue pajamas, flicking his tail back and forth contentedly while he prayed over a set of simple rosary beads. James watched him for awhile, then quietly set about getting ready for bed. James's grandfather had been Catholic and had told the young boy all about the religion's many virtues whenever he came to visit for the holidays, but James wasn't sure he wanted to be Christian at all. He'd been taught about all kinds of religions and he thought he liked Buddhism the most, how people were reborn when they died. He'd wondered whether he could be reborn as an animal if he was Buddhist, and had long ago decided he wanted to be a bird, a small one, so he could fly through the forest and explore all the hidden places he only ever got to see from the road. Or maybe he'd come back as a fish. He'd loved swimming in the lake near the estate but it was a nuisance to have to come up for air.

When he came out of the bathroom, Kurt was done praying. "'Allo, James, I was not sure you were here or not." There was a pause. "You did not liek ze show?"

James shook his head. "Too loud."

Kurt noticed that James had already lain down on his bed with his back to the teleporter. "You want I can turn off ze lights?" he asked.

"Yeah. Doesn't change much if you leave 'em on, though."

Kurt flicked his tail. "You see in ze dahrk?"

"Uh-huh."

Kurt turned off his light and the room was engulfed in the darkness. "Me too."

* * *

The next morning, James awoke early and followed his nose to the kitchen, where a handful of someones were already fixing breakfast. The feral arrived and found the teachers gathered together around the table, chatting or reading or drinking their coffee as the food cooked. James first noticed the strong smell of hot drinks, followed by the savory scent of bacon and the slightly buttery aroma of eggs in the pan. There was toast and yogurt as well and it was all so familiar to home that James couldn't help but be a bit homesick. All at once he was thinking about his father again, and even as he automatically cringed away from the memories-a habit from living with Victor-he almost felt safe enough to mourn here.

The professor noticed the strong swell of emotions coming from the doorway and looked up from his paper, smiling at the boy standing there. James looked as though he wasn't sure whether he was coming or leaving and Xavier was quick to invite him to stay.

"James," he greeted pleasantly. "Good morning. Dr. McCoy is cooking breakfast, would you like him to make you some?"

The other teachers glanced over at the boy when his name was mentioned, smiling in their own time but carefully allowing the feral to make his own way inside. They'd all dealt with mutants somewhat like him before, each in their own capacity, and they knew quite well what not to do around the Howlett boys. The wild brothers would have to be given more time than most to adjust.

James was surprised to be noticed, but the invitation was so easily given that he immediately began glancing around for the food. He was startled when he saw the man at the stove-he was a great furry _beast_, wearing _pajamas!_-but the creature was clearly cooking, so he must have been the Professor's 'Hank'. James padded cautiously over to the man's side and watched him managing the food preparations for a few wary seconds.

"You're blue too," he said in greeting.

Hank glanced at the boy, startled, then raised his eyebrows. He was hardly offended; on the contrary, the boy's candid observation had him thoroughly amused.

"Too?" he asked.

"He's sharing a room with Kurt," Ororo supplied from behind them.

James nodded, then frowned, seeming to come to some sort of conclusion. "Are you his father?"

Jean smiled at that question as Hank shook his head. "No, mutations aren't passed along in that fashion. Children inherit their parents' ability to possess a mutation or not to possess one; the way the mutation manifests is entirely random."

James blinked. "What?"

"No, James, they're not related," Jean offered helpfully from behind them. To Hank, she added, "And if these brothers prove anything, it's that some mutations _do_manifest similarly on account of family genetics."

Hank flipped an omelet. "Yes, I have a theory about that. I think mutations which manifest similarly within one genetic line are older than mutations which differ strongly within the same line. But I hardly have plausible proof of that and I had intended to spare all of you the details." He glanced down at James, who had stopped listening a good minute ago. "What would you like to eat, young man?"

James glanced up from the pan for hardly a second.

"Everythin'."

The Professor smiled slightly at that, although he had no intentions of saying anything. No one at the mansion knew how long the two ferals had been living in the woods, not even him, but they certainly hadn't been eating eggs and buttered toast in the wild. And while Victor seemed to have been perfectly happy with the arrangement-he'd been bragging about it at dinner the night before-James seemed to prefer eating the things he was familiar with. Xavier certainly couldn't blame him for that. Raw squirrel and rabbit wouldn't be a treat for anyone, but especially not for a boy who had been thrown into his mutation so suddenly.

Based on the feral's past, Xavier wondered whether the boy would ever fully accept his abilities. He would be just as likely to reject them and the emotional pain they had already caused him. The Professor sincerely hoped the boy would learn that his mutation was hardly a curse; if he couldn't tolerate his own physiology, it could cause serious problems for him in the future.

Eventually the teachers finished eating and a few of the students started to trickle downstairs. Scott and Ororo went upstairs to awaken anyone who was trying to sleep late while the groundskeeper Hurst poked his head in and conjured up breakfast for the horde of young people now settled in the cafeteria. The man got free room and board and a monthly salary for keeping the Professor's estate in good condition, but he had to be the laziest person alive. He could shift reality to his liking and because he was hired to make sure things stayed ship-shape, reality was always perfect. It was lucky that all the man ever wanted to do was sleep, though, because he had enough power to keep fifty acres of forest and natural trails immaculate with hardly a snap of his fingers.

James sat through breakfast with his new friends because Marie had asked him to, and after that he and Kurt went back to their room to get their class things together. Their age group was young enough that all the kids were in class blocks instead of individual class periods; the blocks were staggered, so one group had each of its classes an hour before the other one did. James and Kurt had ended up together while Marie and Lily were in the later block, but things were arranged so that everyone got to have lunch together, so the group of friends could spend time together in their free hour. Another nice thing was that the older kids didn't have lunch at the same time as the younger ones...and James didn't have to see Victor. The younger boy was still dreading the confrontation he knew was coming. He didn't doubt that he'd run into the older boy eventually, but he didn't know when, and so far it seemed like he never even crossed paths with the older boy in the halls. Whatever the reason was for that, it was making him nervous...he didn't know when to expect a fight. Maybe the professor had arranged it.

The one 'class' James didn't share with any of his friends was detention. He went for the first time on the Monday of his second week, and he couldn't decide after that one day whether he liked the period or hated it. Or whether it even made a difference to him at all.

James had come in a little bit early; he hadn't brought anything because he'd been told not to. The only other kid there when he arrived was a girl with deep purple hair and when he'd curiously turned to stare at her she'd flipped him off.

The other kids had come in at random intervals after that. James had managed to get a seat in the back of the room so that only one person could sit next to him, but he hadn't been so lucky to avoid sitting next to anyone at all. The boy who'd taken the seat was a bit older, maybe a year younger than Victor, with devilish red-on-black eyes and the rattiest clothing James had ever seen. He smelled of alcohol and cigarette smoke and the feral felt himself recoil as soon as the kid slouched into the desk next to his.

The boy turned to him almost immediately, oozing an extroverted confidence that instantly made James wary. "Hey, you's dat Vickie's homme, non?" the stranger greeted. "I heard 'bout you from him, you gone send him half crazy f' blood, you have. He been lookin' fo' you all over dis place. Sauf, I'm talkin' wit' you an' he too _couyon _t'find you hisself, so mebbe he jus' a cowan grand, he."

James just frowned at him. "What?"

The boy smirked. "Ohh, no Cajun talk f'you den, huh?" Scott came in then, and the boy pulled out a deck of cards and started flipping them between his fingers, somewhere between casual and nervous with his energy. "J'suis Remy LeBeau," he added in an undertone, but before he could add more Scott turned to look at him sharply. Remy casually rearranged himself so that it looked like he'd been paying attention the whole time, a smirk tipping half of his mouth up to the side.

He kept flipping the cards though, and the steady whirr of the paper through his fingers was grinding on James's nerves. Normally the feral wouldn't have cared so much, but Remy was apparently one of Victor's friends and that was enough for James to start off with a mistrustful animosity towards him. Scott seemed to be ignoring the shuffling coming from the back of the room so the younger boy turned to glare at the troublemaker, ready to take things into his own hands. "Stop that."

Remy turned to him and gave him a shit-eating grin. "What, _dis?_"

He flipped the cards again.

James growled low in his throat and pulled his lips back just enough to show a few of his teeth.

"Y'know, Vicky do de same t'ing when _je pars avec ma grande bouche (I go off with my big mouth). _Never do nothing 'bout it, though." He flipped the cards at the younger boy, taking his time.

James watched Remy shuffle a bit more, then reached out with an unerringly quick hand and snatched the cards before the boy could flip them again. The feral ignored the Cajun's snickering as the older kid pulled out a smoke and started twirling it in his fingers. But that wasn't so bad; at least it was quieter. James left him alone until Scott had finished telling them what they were going to be doing-making file folders for the office-and then got started hole-punching papers.

Once the supplies had been handed out, Remy lit his smoke and turned to face James, propping his feet up on the feral's desk. The feral had put the pile of finished paper on there, and the work he'd done was effectively ruined by Remy's dirty boots.

"You use dem claws fo' dis instead, homme?" the Cajun drawled, pulling out another pack of cards. James had no idea what he'd said-he'd spit it out so fast, James had barely gotten a chance to adjust to his accent-but he was now getting fed up with him, and he didn't like the scent of the smoke.

"Move or I'll make you," he growled.

Remy raised his eyebrows and chuckled, swinging his feet off the desk and leaning forward towards the other boy. "Coo, you're gonna do dat now, is you?" He blew smoke in James's face and grabbed his other set of cards off the younger boy's desk where the feral had set them, pocketing the second set of cards he'd pulled out with his cigarette. "How you gonna go about dat, homme? You punch a hole 'n my head an' throw my dead carcass in d'rivuh?"

James could feel a wild anger churning in his stomach, could sense his own heartbeat picking up in anticipation, but he did try to ignore Remy. He didn't say anything to the other boy's challenge and just kept on working. It would have been impressive if he'd had company in his own mind.

But Remy was curious to see what kind of a person Victor's younger brother was...or rather, what kind of a fighter. He didn't honestly like the older Howlett very much but it was clear that Victor was both vicious and experienced when it came time to throw down. Remy was always one for a challenge and he liked to believe he was a pretty good fighter...he wanted to test his skills on this younger boy who'd already sent the school rumor mill spinning. Remy had been fortunate enough to see the end of the brothers' fight firsthand, but it was nothing like having a little skirmish of his own.

So as soon as Scott left the room to get something-or-other he'd forgotten, Remy opened his mouth again.

"Mais_,_ y'know, I's thinkin' you's a cowan grand aussi, homme_. _Mebbe it run in de family, non?" He made his words very deliberate and spoke in plain English, easily understandable even if the boy couldn't translate his Cajun French. "You an' Vicky got somethin' in common dere, huh?"

James turned and glared at him with deadly eyes. "We're _not_ related." He knew the older boy was goading him, but he didn't care. He did _not _want to be compared to Victor, and by extension Logan...he already knew how similar his mutation was to Victor's, and he hardly needed reminding of that fact.

Remy sucked at his cigarette. "_Mais,_ you _is, _though. You come from de same neck o' de woods, you both wildmen, 'n you both got no pere. Y'say yousself, aussi, you hommes." He stood up and leaned on James's desk, looming over the other kid intimidatingly, and blew smoke in the boy's face again for good measure. "Mais, dat's one too many cwinc'dences, non?"

James snarled and jumped up, grabbing the Cajun's shirt and throwing him against the near wall of the classroom with surprising strength. The rest of the detention students turned around at the noise and stared at the feral and the thief, facing off in the corner of the room.

Remy coughed a little and shrugged his shoulders where they'd hit the wall. He put the cigarette in his mouth and pulled something out of his belt, something that expanded into a long thin staff of some sort. The older boy spun the weapon casually a few times in front of him.

"Dat all y'got, p'tit boug? Coo, you's not just Vicky's homme, you his _l'homme capo,_ _aussi._" Red eyes flashing, he added clearly, "You a _coward, _boy."

James's jaw tightened in indignant fury and he felt the claws gore their way out of his arms, the pain only angering him further. He took a deliberate step forward. "You don't say that."

"Don't I?" Remy felt his competitive spirit jump to the challenge it saw here, same as it did when he was taking dares from his cousins back home, or trading blows with a merchant boy in the Vieux Carre of the city. He swung out with his staff and cracked James on the side of the head, not holding back in the slightest with his strength. "I t'ink I do."

James saw stars for a half-second after the blow and he reeled to keep his feet, recovering quickly as his adrenaline and healing factor kicked in. He thought he saw Remy's eyes widen but he didn't wait to check, just jumped at the older boy, intending to bury his claws into his chest for a good grip. But Remy ducked out of the way at the last second and whipped around behind James, cracking him over the head with his staff again. James had managed to sheath his claws before they stuck in the wall and let his momentum carry him away from the impact-so he kept his feet-but Remy's underhanded strike was enough to knock him off-balance. He stumbled and crouched low to steady himself, pushing his claws out again and trying furiously to get his bearings.

Remy chuckled a little madly off to his left and James leapt, aiming for where the older boy's head would be. But again the bastard ducked, swinging his staff overhand this time and breaking the bone claws off James's hands as he did so. The spin of his weapon followed its momentum and slammed into the feral's back as he flew over it, forcing the younger boy into a grinding halt on the floor. He landed on his face and coughed a few times before he caught his breath, his claws already growing back even as bloody marrow oozed out of the breaking points. His head, too, was clear despite the beating it had received not thirty seconds ago and he could taste the snarl growing in his throat.

"Mon dieu," a low voice said above his head. "Dat's some talent you got dere."

James heard the staff spinning before he saw it speeding towards his face. He jerked out of the way not a second too soon and jumped to his feet faster than Remy's considerable senses could follow. While the staff's momentum was occupying Remy's balance, James pushed off and rammed his half-grown claws into the boy's left shoulder, pinning him to the floor as his weight carried them down. The thief's head knocked against the ground and he gasped, red eyes wide and breathing already raspy from the sudden pain.

"C'est bien, m'ami," he rasped, "y'let me up now?" But James was baring his teeth in his face, eyes narrowed angrily, his other fist braced against the older boy's sternum. No claws there, though. _Thankfully. _Still, he didn't look like he intended to move any time soon.

Remy slowly, painfully rotated his right arm until his staff was leaning against James's ribs. He charged it up so it was glowing an eerie magenta, ignoring the searing ache in his right shoulder as the power rushed to his command. James noticed the new development before it was visibly obvious, his nose flaring at the hot edge the energy lent to the air.

"Y'don't geoff me _righ' damn now, _I's gonna blow you inta so many li'l pieces y'ain't gonna heal evah 'gain, c'es' clair, p'tit boug?"

James responded to that, the claws snapping back into his arm as he jumped back several feet from the glowing staff. Remy groaned as he rolled to his feet but the staff stopped glowing as soon as he was standing, and he telescoped it down again and tucked it back into his belt.

He gave James a look, and James showed his teeth. "Non, we done, homme," the older boy said wearily. Glancing around, he realized they'd displaced a few desks and scattered papers all over the floor; Remy started reorganizing the classroom as best he could, moving slowly so as not to startle James into anything drastic. He'd known from the start it would be over if the feral got even one hit in, but _merde, _he hurt.

For his part, James just watched warily from the side, his shoulders tense and muscles still taut and ready. He didn't know why Remy had stopped fighting but as his blood cooled, he slowly began to realize that the whole confrontation had probably been little more than a test. Once he'd figured it out, James was a lot more comfortable with the way the strange boy was acting now...it made him predictable, if not trustworthy in the near future. James decided he might as well help him clean up the mess.

Eventually the two of them had the back of the room looking normal again, except for a few blood smears stained into the carpet; no one would notice those, though. James scrubbed the blood he could see off his arms and poked at a scuff on the knee of his shorts where he'd slid along the carpet. Glancing down at himself, Remy adjusted his clothes as well so that his dark jacket covered the musty blood that was now soaking into his shirt.

"Now homme, we gon' preten' dat didn't happen, 'n there'll be no more problems f'us, huh?"

James frowned at that, but nodded. He didn't want to make any promises, but he also didn't want to have to talk to the Professor again. That man had something in his eyes that did anything but inspire the feral's trust in his good intentions.

Remy nodded too. "Dat goes for de rest o' you, too, huh?" he told the other detention kids. Everyone watched him stonily, unsure what to think of that. Then the girl with the purple hair snorted and settled back into her seat, completely unfazed by the confrontation. Slowly all of the other kids followed suit, even though they were still staring at Remy and James with wide eyes, turned around in their seats to watch. It made James's skin crawl.

Remy nodded and turned back to James. "You have some blood on yo' face, homme," he said, the smirk already back in his voice even if it wasn't on his face. Then he turned and swaggered lopsidedly out, stopping to drop something on Scott's desk before he disappeared down the hall.

Scott came back a few minutes later. Staring at his desk with a frown, he walked over to it and snatched his phone off the table. _It couldn't have been here the whole time, I..._

Oh.

Looking up sharply, he turned to the class. "Where's Remy?" he asked, a stern edge to his tone.

It was silent, and then the girl with the purple hair spoke up.

"He must have had somewhere he needed to be," she said.

Scott frowned at that.

_Of course he did._

* * *

_All this French is listed in two groups: one of words you probably know if you know any French, and one of words you probably don't. I put a 'C' next to words that are primarily or singularly used in Acadiana.  
_

Merde = shit  
Mais = but, well  
Aussi = also  
Homme = brother  
Mon dieu = my god  
J'suis = je suis = I am  
C'est bien, m'ami = mon ami = that's good, my friend/that's enough

Sauf = Except  
Couyon = couillon = idiot, stupid (C)  
Cowan grand = big pussy (C for the _cowan_, not for the _grand_ XD)  
P'tit boug = petite boug = little boy (C)  
Capo = coward (C)  
Vieux Carre = Old Quarter = French Quarter of the city of New Orleans (C, clearly)  
C'es' clair = c'est clair = that clear?


End file.
